Bring It on Home
by Queen of Kaos
Summary: Taker and his wife contemplate his retirement. An epilogue, of sorts, to Nothing Compares. TakerOC


Though she had been married to World Wrestling Entertainment's Undertaker for nearly two years, Winter Calaway still found the backstage atmosphere of Wrestlemania more intimidating than anything in the world. If her husband had been at her side, she would have felt a little bit better. She always felt a little bit better when he was with her. Not that he had ever been with her all that often.

For nearly four years, she had dealt with the fact that her man was constantly away, constantly on the road. Strangely, the distance had never been their problem. She had never had much trouble coming to terms with his extended absences. It was just how they worked. It was the only way she had ever known him, and it was enough. Sometimes, she even speculated that it was the reason she still got butterflies in her tummy when she knew she would see him again. Some women complained that they never saw their men. Winter thought it kept their relationship fresh.

"Thank God you're here," a deep voice interrupted her thoughts.

Glancing up from the toes of her combat boots, Winter tucked a fire-engine red streak of hair behind her ear and beamed a bright smile at her husband's opponent for the night, Dave Batista. "Hey, Big Guy," she smiled warmly, stopping to chat for a second.

Dave looked over his shoulder and then back at Winter. "It's good to see you again, Win," he nodded, biting his lip as he tilted his head to the side, considering the petite, young woman. She was barely thirty, barely five foot four, and nowhere near a physical match for her husband. But Dave had been sitting next to Taker the night he met the punk rock prom queen who would someday become his wife. They may have been complete asthetic opposites, but there was no denying the connection between the newlyweds.

"That bad, huh?" Winter asked, reading Dave's expression in a second. It wasn't unlike her husband to be a little edgey before a big pay per view. And seeing as Wrestlemania was deemed the Biggest Stage of Them All, she had figured he would be grouchy.

Shrugging his mammoth shoulders, Dave tucked his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "He's been growlin' since yesterday," he informed. "Today's a duck-and-cover, though."

Winter sucked a breath between her teeth and scrunched up her nose. "Yay," she finally said sarcastically, shooting Dave another smile to let him know that she would be okay. "Maybe I should have brought a tranq gun," she added cheefully.

With a deep sigh, Dave nodded and glanced around again. "You didn't bring the munchkin?" he questioned.

Not that Winter could blame him. Since giving birth to the couple's first child nearly six months earlier, she rarely visited her husband on the road. And when she did, little Jack was always on her hip. Shaking her head, Winter tucked her hands into the pockets of her plaid pants. "Tasha's bringin' him later. He was kinda fussy today," she explained.

Nodding, Dave patted Winter on her thin shoulder and nodded down the hall. "I got a meeting to get to," he told her. "But good luck in there."

Winter just rolled her eyes and continued down the hall. When she found the door boasting her husband's name, she knocked timidly and stuck her head inside. If he was in a really bad mood, even she didn't want to be there. It had taken a few unfortunate incidents for her to learn, but even a kiss from his wife wasn't enough when he was feeling too stressed. "Knock, knock," she spoke softly, listening for signs of movement.

A clattering, followed by an angry "god dammit" told her that Dave had been right. Pushing the door further, Winter watched as Mark bent to pick a roll of tape, his hand tightly clutching his right thigh. "Fuckin' piece of shit," he grunted.

"What are you doing?" Winter asked, abandoning her timid demeanor in favor of rushing to his side and grabbing the tape from the floor.

Rolling his eyes, Mark stood and stepped away from his wife. "Walkin' off a cramp," he hissed through clenched teeth, failing to meet her eyes. She had seen him at his absolute worst, but Mark still didn't like his wife watching him struggle to walk. It always made her feel sorry for him, and he hated the pity in her wide eyes.

Winter grabbed his arm and stepped in front of him, taking his chin in her hands and until she knew she was in his eyeline. "Sit," she ordered, pointing to the bench behind him.

"I'm fine," he growled, closing his eyes as another pain shot through his hip.

But she wasn't about to let him off the hook that easily. "I'm sorry," she stated. All thoughts of anxiety seemed to flee whenever she saw him fighting through another ache or pain. There was nothing, as far as Winter was concerned, as bad as seeing her husband in pain. "You must have thought that I was giving you a choice." Pointing again, she smiled when Mark begrudgingly followed her orders, lowering himself to the floor in front of his locker.

"Ya know," Mark said with a sigh when he was situated, "I almost missed you for a minute."

Finally seeing a glint of humor in his eyes, she lowered herself to his side and tilted her face to his, accepting the first kiss they had shared in more than three weeks. When she pulled back, she placed her hand on his thigh, gently massaging the tightened muscles. "You know you missed me," she smirked, her tummy fluttering at the satisfied moan rumbling from his chest.

He only nodded, rolling his head to the side to watch his wife. He'd never imagined himself married to a woman who wore striped tights and combat boots on a regular basis. He had never thought he would find himself missing a little girl with red and purple streaks in her dark hair. And he surely never imagined that he would find himself longing to be home with her when he was in the middle of the ring. "Where's Jack?" he asked suddenly, as if just noticing that his son was nowhere to be found.

He had known, from his first date with Winter, that she was going to be a part of his life for a good, long while. The day she walked down the make-shift aisle in the field behind their Houston, Texas home, he was sure he could never love her more than he had in that moment. And then she had lain in her hospital bed, cradling his beautiful, nine pound son against her chest. Her tiny body had been covered in sweat and completely exhausted from giving birth to such a large child, but when both Winter and Jack opened their eyes to look at him for the first time, he had broken down for the first time in as long as he could remember. For a guy who never cried, he had been a blubbering mess that day.

Winter leaned against his shoulder, continuing to work her hands over his leg. "Tasha is watching him at the hotel," she murmmered, knowing how he was going to react. Tasha Dumont had been her best friend since elementary school, but that didn't mean that she was Mark's best friend. Not by a long shot.

"You left my son with a self-proclaimed man-hunter?" he asked, raising an eyebrow in predictable question.

Laughing, Winter shook her head and kissed him again quickly. "She's his godmother." Mark grunted his disapproval. "She is my best friend!"

Still undeterred, Mark gave his wife a hard, unwavering look. "She's a skank," he reminded. It wasn't that he didn't like Tasha - she was fun at a bar. But she wasn't the woman he would have selected to babysit his child. Even if Jack was too young to know what a "ho" was.

"And you're an asshole," Winter pointed out, her nose crinkling as he tried to stare her down.

He tried his damnedest to hold his "serious" face, but the bunny look his wife was sporting was too much. When the smile split his face, he reached across his body to tap her lips. "And you're too mouthy for your own good," he said, his voice low and steady.

Winter snorted and settled for running her hand over the top of his mesh shorts, gently caressing him as he wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "And what are you gonna do about it, Gimpy?" she asked, giggling when he dug his fingers into her side. There was nothing she loved more than the quiet moments with Mark. Whether they were in a locker room, or their bedroom, these were the times she missed when they were apart.

"Just wait," he warned, resting his cheek against the top of her head and allowing his eyes to drift shut. He loved Wrestlemania, but there was no crowd in the world that could compare to holding Winter in his arms. "I'm a patient man," he went on. "You have to sleep sometime."

Sighing contendedly, she reached across her stomach to weave her fingers through his considerably larger ones. "You don't scare me. You're a big teddy bear."

Mark couldn't help laughing at her statement. He'd been described as many things in his life, but teddy bear had never been one of them. "Cause I'm cuddley," he said sardonically.

"I think so," Winter whispered, shifting in his arms to look into his emerald eyes. No one would ever convince her that her two men were not the most beautiful creatures in the world.

Mark huffed and tightened his hold on his wife's side. "**You **think Cyndi Lauper was a fashion icon," he reminded. When Winter poked him in the stomach, he grunted and grabbed her finger until she squirmed and settled back into his side.

For a long moment, they sat together, saying nothing. She could hear his breath evening out, and for a moment, Winter thought that Mark had fallen asleep. But his fingers dancing up and down her back reminded her that he was wide awake and enjoying the intimacy of the moment. The world would explode around them soon enough. For now, it was enough to just sit.

"You ready?" she asked quietly, afraid to disrupt the silence. He only grunted in response. "Have you talked to anybody about it?"

Opening one eye, Mark took a deep breath and shook his head. "Only Glen," he admitted. The decision to retire for good, or continue travelling the world as The Undertaker, was something that he had only briefly discussed with his closest friend and his wife. And neither of them had any idea just how deeply the matter was affecting him. "He seems to think I should make the decision myself," he answered.

"I always knew he was the smarter of you two," Winter smiled.

Rising to her knees, she straddled her husband's massive thighs before sitting back and taking his hands in hers. Clutching his fingers, she held their arms to the sides and then brought them back as she considered the man she loved. A decade and a half of destruction inside the ring had taken a toll on his body. Life on the road had weathered his face, etching deep lines into his eyes and his brow. His hair, though still flowing long over his shoulders, was beginning to recede. If she was honest, he was beginning to look much older than his forty-two years. But he still took her breath away.

Sometimes Mark had trouble believing that Winter was his. Sometimes he wondered if his loyalty to the company, and his performance in the ring had afforded him the right to a woman like his wife. If he was honest, he hadn't done much outside of the ring to merit her presence in his life. Twisting his hands out of hers, he ran his fingers up her thighs, grinning inwardly when she closed her eyes and savored the feeling. "Ya know," he teased when her crystal blue orbs met his, "if you just came in here to mock me, I coulda kept Dave in here for that."

Winter nodded and pouted her lips. "You could have," she acknowledged, resting her hands on his hips as she fluttered her eyelashes. "But he wouldn't look as cute in a corset."

Over time, he began to realize just how well his wife knew him. And his infatuation with her breasts. Sweeping his glance over her tightly-bound chest, he couldn't help licking his lips in approval. "That is true," he nodded. Without moving his eyes back to her face, he asked, "What do you think of having me around the house all the time?"

Laughing, Winter took his bearded chin in her hand and lifted his sight back to her face. "I would have to tell that other guy I've been sleeping with to stay home more often, but I think I could adapt."

Jealousy was one trait he had never learned to control, and Winter knew it. And, yet, it never stopped her from taunting the emotion at every turn. "You're funny," he nodded, his face anything but amused.

"That's why you married me," she winked, leaning forward to run her hands over his bare, chiseled chest. If there was one positive to Mark's latest Championship run, it was that he was in better physical condition than she had ever seen him. Every muscle was defined, every plane hard and begging for her touch.

Risking another look at the way her corset lifted her breasts, Mark smirked and ran a finger over the swell of them. "Yeah, that's why," he laughed as she swatted his hand away. "What?" he asked, his chuckle catching in his throat when she leaned forward to kiss him hungrily. With one hand under her ass and the other on the back of her neck, he seriously considered laying her on the floor and getting reacquainted with his wife. In less than five hours, he was going to be defending his winning streak at Wrestlemania. But he'd be damned if he cared when she began to scratch the back of his neck.

Finally pulling back before they ended up in a position his body would be feeling for days, Winter jumped to her feet and offered a hand to her husband. "Let's take a walk," she suggested. She knew that he was avoiding the subject of retirement like the plague, but she would worry about getting him to open up later. For now, she just wanted to enjoy some time with her husband.

Mark made his way to his feet and grabbed a hooded sweatshirt as he followed his wife into the hallway. "We're goin' to the bar tonight after the show," he informed her. Winter just nodded as a few people shouted their greetings to her husband. She was back to feeling like the head cheerleader in high school, and it was a feeling that she loved more than she ever believed she would. "And you're gonna sing for me," Mark added.

"I don't know about all that," she pouted, even though she knew she would do it if he asked.

Since their first date, Mark had been enamored with Winter's voice. She was as vocally talented as anyone he'd ever heard. She'd even received an offer for a record deal. And when she rejected it, it had nearly ended their relationship. When she had promised to never stop singing for him, whether she was famous or not, he had taken her up on her offer. Any chance he had to make her sing in front of his friends, and a full bar? He was going to take it. As jealous as he could get sometimes, he loved seeing that look in other men's eyes when they wanted her, and he knew they couldn't have her.

They circled the underbelly of Detroit's Ford Field, discussing everything from their son, to their home, to the vacation they were planning in a couple of months. Fans were constantly commenting on how private Taker was, but he could never get over how liberating it was to have a confidant in his life with whom he could be completely open. Holding it all in for his co-workers and friends was important to him, but letting it all go with Winter was becoming equally important.

For the first time, he wanted to share his feelings with someone. He wanted to tell Winter how he was feeling about the retirement decision, but every time he opened his mouth, the words just wouldn't come. He couldn't bring himself to voice his concerns. Forty years of silence couldn't be broken in four years with anyone, no matter how amazing he thought she was. But he would talk to her soon. Soon.

-----

Despite his insistence that they go out with the guys after the show, Mark's body had been in no shape for a party by the time Mania ended. Aching and tired, he asked Winter if she would mind just heading back to the hotel for a little family time. And while she loved hanging out with his colleagues, she couldn't sneeze at the idea of spending a little bit of extra time alone with her husband.

Reclining on the bed, Mark focused on a Pistons basketball game while Jack slept comfortably on his father's broad chest. Scurrying around the room, Winter wondered just how it was possible for Mark, a man who was constantly on the go when he was on the road, to thoroughly trash a hotel room that he virtually never saw. She folded clean clothes and tossed dirty ones into a black trash bag, trying her best to give his room some semblence of order.

When she began to hum, Mark turned his head slightly, his heart thumping at the sound of his wife's voice. She swayed her hips as she began to sing, raising her eyes enough to see that he was watching her. "What?" she asked with a smirk.

Shaking his head, Mark rubbed Jack's back and glared at Winter. "You know what," he smiled softly, returning his eyes to the television, waiting for her to continue.

"You've got someone here, wants to make it all right," she sang the song that had been running through her head most of the night. Mark didn't talk much, especially about his feelings, and she always found hers better expressed through songs. Not that she ever doubted what she said was important to him, but he seemed to listen a little closer when she sang to him anyway. "Someone to love you more than I have, right here. You've gotta bring it on, and I'll hold you tight. A hand to lead you on through the night, right here."

Though he kept his eyes trained on the basketball game, Mark's thoughts were a million miles from the game. The scent of his newborn son filled his nose, and the sound of his wife's voice caressed his eardrums. He wondered, for a second, if there was anything more important on earth. He snorted a knowing chuckle when Winter sang, "I know your heart can get all tangled up inside. But don't you keep it to yourself." Oh, she knew him better than he knew himself sometimes.

She was a punk rock chick by nature, but living in Texas had brought an appreciation for pure country music, as well. Her gravelly voice lilted around the chorus of Little Big Town's 'Bring It on Home,' though she remained focused on Mark's packing. "When you're long day is over and you can barely drag your feet. When the weight of the world is on your shoulders, I know what you need. Bring it on home to me." She wasn't sure how much more clearly she could tell him to open up to her, to share his thoughts and feelings on the decision that was clearly wearing on him.

From the corner of his eye, he saw her shut the suitcase, sitting on it to zip the bulging fabric. "You know I know you like the back of my hand," she sang, and he could almost see her standing in their kitchen with her hands on her hips. That thought brought another smile. "You know I'm gonna do all that I can, right here."

Turning, Winter crawled onto the bed as she continued serenading the man that she loved. "Gonna lie with you till you fall asleep. When the morning comes, I'm still gonna be right here," she crooned, cuddling up beside him and resting her hand resting lazily on his bare abdomen. "So take your worries and just drop them at the door. Baby, leave it all behind," she sang.

As she sang the chorus again, she trailed her fingers over his skin and rested them atop his against their son. The small gesture sent a shiver through Mark's hardened shell, causing him to turn his face and stare directly into her compassion-filled blue eyes. He could see her pleading, beyond the words, "Baby, let me be your safe harbor. Don't let the water come and carry you away," for him to let her in, to talk about whatever was on his mind. He knew that he would, but not until she had finished her song. Not until the final echo of her rich voice had bounced from the walls.

"You've got someone right here," Winter sang, moving her warm palm to his face, stroking his leathery skin gently. "Someone who wants to love you more." As she thought about the last line, Winter realized that it was true. She loved him as completely as she had ever loved anyone, but that didn't mean she didn't have more to give. She wanted to give him more. But she needed permission. She needed him to let her inside the walls he had built for himself.

"If I did," Mark asked into the silence after a moment, "could you handle it?"

Biting her lip, Winter considered the best possible answer. She would give him the truth, but she didn't want to be the one who made his decision. Glen was right when he said that Mark should make it for himself. "I see you limp around the house, and I think it's the only solution," she admitted. "But you were home for a month when Jack was born," she reminded, shuddering at the thought, "and you were miserable."

Mark's eyebrow shot up. "I wasn't that bad," he defended, his shoulders relaxing when Winter rolled her eyes. "Okay, so I was," he conceded. "But I'm gonna have to get used to it eventually," he reminded.

Nodding, Winter struggled to sit and drew her knees to her chest. "Maybe you should just cut back a little bit," she suggested. "Ween yourself off the road. Could you work for a couple months and then take one off?"

If he was honest, he knew that he could. He had been doing that for years in some capacity or another. He was in the best shape of his life, but every morning found him a little stiffer than the one before, and he knew that he wasn't going to have a choice before long. He wanted to get out before his muscles and joints refused to let him stay in. "It's an option," he finally admitting, dipping his head to kiss his son's head.

"Look," Winter spoke, reaching out to stroke his hair as his eyes drifted back to her once more. "There is nothing I want more than to have you at home with us all the time," she smiled warmly, as if trying to assure him that she meant it. With a kiss to his forehead, she stood from the bed and lifted her sleeping son into her arms. "I can't decide if you're ready to walk away, Mark." Lowering Jack into his travelling crib, she kissed his smooth forehead and then climbed back into the bed with her husband. "It's not my job to make that kinda choice for you."

Rolling over his wife, Mark rested his weight on his elbows and settled between her thighs. "You're as bad as Glen. You know that?"

Winter looped her arms around his neck and absently ran her fingernails over the back of his scalp. "My job is to stand behind whatever you choose," she told him, pulling his face to hers. Her blue eyes glimmered when she said, "and that's what I'm gonna do. Whenever you decide to come home, baby?" Her tongue peeked out between her teeth, running slowly over his bottom lip, before disappearing into her mouth again. "I'll be there. Your family will be there waiting for you."

Kissing her deeply, Mark rolled on the bed until Winter was comfortably straddling him. She always told him that he thought too much about the future, that he should live more for the moment. Usually, it annoyed him. But as he ran his hands over her body and listened to moan in satisfaction, he saw the validity of her philosophy. He had just secured his winning streak for another year, and was about to make love to the most fascinating and beautiful woman he could imagine. The rest would work itself out tomorrow.


End file.
